


Then Trust Me

by lastdream



Category: Marvel 616
Genre: Anal Sex, Dom/sub, Light Bondage, M/M, Magic, Oral Fixation, Oral Sex, Subspace, Translation Available
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-08-04
Updated: 2016-08-04
Packaged: 2018-07-29 06:42:17
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,218
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7674034
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lastdream/pseuds/lastdream
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Come with me. I'll show you what to do.*</p>
<p>*the NSFW version.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Then Trust Me

**Author's Note:**

> So actually this is because of laireshi, because Laire was the one who suggested this... but as I'm just a creepy lurker I think it'd be weird to actually gift it. So. Yep.
> 
> The story behind this fic is that Doom says the line from the summary and Tony IMMEDIATELY GOES WITH HIM no questions asked, and so I of course had to completely recontextualize the line. There is no Civil War II, Tony is not any more emotionally fucked up than usual, everything is doomtony porn and nothing hurts :D
> 
> Update: now with a Chinese translation by [QAQ](http://archiveofourown.org/users/QAQ) [here](http://weibo.com/ttarticle/p/show?id=2309404032182774575019&is_search=1#_0) or [here](http://www.mtslash.org/forum.php?mod=viewthread&tid=214642&page=1&extra=#pid4096753)! (same translation in different places)

“Come with me. I’ll show you what to do.”

The words, sure and steady in Victor’s measured voice, are enough to settle the last qualms in Tony’s gut. He’s still nervous, but he’s learned to trust Victor more than almost anyone else, and definitely enough to give him this.

So Victor was right, all that time ago. He’ll probably smile when Tony tells him.

Tony stands up from the couch and takes Victor’s outstretched hand.

Victor leads Tony to the bedroom carefully, like he’s still concerned that Tony might spook, but his grip on Tony’s hand is unwavering. That too helps settle him. The firm touch is as good as words, telling him that he doesn’t have to worry. There’s nothing to worry about. Victor will take care of everything.

He’ll take care of Tony.

“The first thing you’re going to do is undress yourself,” Victor says, releasing Tony’s hand and turning to close the door behind them. The words are easily said, but it’s clear that they aren’t a suggestion. Tony shivers with anticipation and begins to strip down. He aims for careless, shameless, _sexy_ —and Victor tuts at him.

“What?” Tony snaps. “You said undress, I’m undressing.”

“No, you’re throwing your clothes on the floor,” Victor says calmly, not rising to the bait. “Fold them, please. We have an enormous closet for a reason.”

There’s a fine tremor in Tony’s muscles as he turns away to collect his discarded clothes. He can feel Victor’s eyes on his naked back as he folds his shirt and then his pants, and he’s sure he can sense disapproval at the lack of underwear. It’s presumptuous, probably, to walk around with nothing under his jeans, but, well, Tony had been _hoping_ , too. Despite the fear that this would be a train wreck. Maybe he shouldn’t have been so overt about that hope. Victor probably wants him to be sweet and compliant, not—not—

“Thank you. That was well done,” Victor murmurs, as Tony sets the neat pile of his clothes on the bench in the closet. Tony wants to scoff because all he did was fold his clothes and put them away and Victor’s acting like it’s some big achievement and _Tony doesn’t know how to do this_. He doesn’t know if he can _take_ this.

“Victor—“

“Remind me of your safeword.”

“Richards,” Tony says automatically, earning the little reflexive downturn of Victor’s mouth. It’s definitely a moodkiller. “But Victor—“

“That’s what you’ll say if you want this to stop. Otherwise, I want _you_ ,” Victor instructs, “to stop overthinking things. All you have to do, darling, is listen. Obey. Take what I give you. Even— _especially_ —if it’s praise.”

“Okay,” Tony says quietly. He still feels trembly, but Victor’s voice helps. Seeing him helps, too. Victor is still dressed in a dark green button-down and slacks, making Tony feel awfully exposed in his nakedness, but it helps. Especially seeing his face. It makes it easier not to assume that a lack of approval is disapproval.

“Let’s start with something easy, shall we?” Victor says, making no motion to remove his own clothes. “Kiss me. Softly. Use your tongue.”

Well, Tony knows how to do _that_. He leans up, just a little, because Victor has an inch on him, and he brings their mouths together. It sends a thrill down his spine, like every time, and it makes him want to kiss harder, but Victor said softly, so he doesn’t. Tony kisses slowly, gently, teasing his tongue around Victor’s lips and then parting them, seeking out Victor’s tongue with his own. One of Victor’s hands slides to the back of Tony’s neck, pulling him in close enough that the fabric of Victor’s clothes rubs all across Tony’s front, making him shiver. The kiss seems to go on forever, never picking up speed. _Something_ builds in his gut that isn’t quite frustration, and he feels himself starting to get hard against the seam of Victor’s trousers.

“ _Very_ good,” Victor purrs, withdrawing. “Now, if you would please—the first two buttons of my shirt?” Tony complies, hands rising to Victor’s collar automatically. He stares, unabashed, at the long line of throat he reveals, and Victor smiles at him just a little. “Kiss my throat. You know the spot. No marks.”

Tony knows how to do this, too. He leans in and runs his tongue over the hollow of Victor’s throat, licking and sucking lightly. He feels awkward and sort of desperate, standing there naked and hard and attending to Victor’s wants while Victor himself responds only minimally, stroking a hand lightly up Tony’s arm, breathing out a pleased sigh every now and then.

“And the other?” Victor says. Tony moves to the side of Victor’s neck and latches onto the tendon there, worrying it with his teeth hard enough to feel but lightly enough not to bruise. He stays there for a while, getting lost in the taste and texture of Victor’s skin under his tongue until Victor finally pulls Tony off by the hair, firm but not forceful.

“Very nice. You’ve done well, Tony,” Victor breathes. Tony’s heart skips at the slight hitch in Victor’s breathing, and he misses the taste of his skin more than he expected to. He tries to ignore the compliments; it’s not like he needs to be _encouraged_ to put his mouth on his lover. “Come here.”

Victor sits down on the edge of the bed, his posture excellent except for his legs, which are spread wide apart to throw the bulge between his thighs into sharp relief. Tony’s mouth waters, just a little, and he wishes he’d been allowed to undress Victor, too. Maybe later. Maybe another time, actually. Something about the exposed feeling of being naked while Victor is dressed is getting inside Tony’s head, heating him up and lifting the hairs on the back of his neck. He thinks he _likes_ it. Tony obeys Victor, stepping into the vee of his legs. It’s weird being taller all of a sudden.

“You have a very talented mouth, darling,” Victor says, reaching a hand up to cup Tony’s jaw and tilt his head to give himself a better look. Tony doesn’t say anything, and Victor looks at him expectantly.

“Thank you?” Tony answers. He’s proud of that particular feature, a little, but it’s not some innate skill. It’s just an oral fixation.

“I mean it. Your lips always know what they ought to be doing, stroking or sucking or giving pressure, and they do it beautifully,” Victor says with relish. Tony might be flushing; he has no idea how Victor wants him to react to this. His thumb sweeps over Tony’s lower lip as he talks, spreading saliva and probably making it redder and shinier than it already was. He eases Tony’s mouth open with the touch of his fingers. “Your teeth are nice, too. Sharp, with just strong enough a bite to feel… _exquisite_. The coup de grace, of course, is your tongue. So multitalented. Sharp tongue, silver tongue, quick and clever enough to outfox _mine_ ,” Victor goes on, a touch arrogant. He slides his thumb past Tony’s teeth and Tony feels a little self-conscious as he automatically brings his tongue out to play, swirling around Victor’s thumb and tasting the salt of his skin. He sucks a little, and Victor gasps ever so quietly. “Believe me, darling. When I say that you’re skillful, it is no empty compliment,” Victor says.

His eyes are wide, dark, and hungry, and Tony believes him. He glances longingly down at the bulge in Victor’s trousers and sucks harder, asking Victor to put the mouth he apparently likes so much to better use. Ordinarily he’d just drop to his knees, but right now he thinks he’s supposed to wait for permission. The odd thing is that he thinks he _wants_ to wait.

Tony’s heard about subspace, about the things that can happen in your head when you have this kind of sex, and he feels himself tensing up automatically. Is that what’s happening? Would he know it, if it did? Would he be able to stop it? To make it happen faster?

He has the strongest sense that control, not just of the situation, but of _himself_ , is slipping away from him.

“Hmm,” Victor says, pulling Tony’s attention back. He brings his hand down from Tony’s mouth and splays it briefly, protectively, over the light in the center of Tony’s chest, and all the tension bleeds out of him. It’s almost like a drug, how fast the worry leaves Tony’s system. Victor's got him. “Well, you have been very good so far, my dear. How about a reward?”

“Reward?” Tony says dumbly. He’s completely lost the thread.

“Get on your knees, love,” Victor says with a little smile. Tony obeys automatically, lowering himself to get his mouth closer to that tantalizing bulge. Victor’s so hard under his slacks that the shape of him is clearly defined.

Well, that’s some compliment. Tony feels it shiver pleasantly down his spine and his own cock twitches in appreciation.

Then another tingling sensation twists up Tony’s spine, and at first he thinks it’s anticipation, but then it _pushes_ , straightening his back, correcting his posture. Tony doesn’t even need to look to know that it’s _magic_ , making him break out into gooseflesh like a static shock.

“Victor!” he exclaims. “You know how I feel about—“

“Magic, I know,” Victor says. “Look at me. Look at my face.”

That means more to the two of them than maybe anyone else on the planet, Tony knows. He looks up.

“Victor,” he says. Victor is as handsome as ever, and his face is open, generous, but guarded. Like he expects to be pushed away.

“When we discussed this earlier, you could not give a sure answer. I will not lie to you. I have not lied to you,” Victor says. He hasn’t. Not since they got together, and not for a long time before that, either. He was never that kind of supervillain. “This is no spell, no spirit or outside force I have called upon. It is only me, touching you without my hands. Can you accept this?”

And Tony finds that he can. Tony Stark hates magic about as much as Victor von Doom is a supervillain; which is to say, not very much, and mostly in the past. He nods, and lets Victor push him into position with magic, straightening his shoulders and adjusting his seat to make him more comfortable. It’s like licking a battery, but with his entire body. Tony finds that it isn’t nearly as hard as he would’ve expected to ignore the flashing sirens that magic still sets off in the back of his head. He just looks up at Victor and thinks _I trust him_ and then it’s like everything is okay. There’s a small, amazed smile on Victor’s lips that makes Tony so happy he said yes.

He wonders if _this_ is what subspace is like. He’s so focused on Victor, it’s like the rest of the world is slipping away.

“Can I suck you now?” Tony finds himself asking. His mouth feels empty, without the thumb against his palate or the skin under his tongue.

“Oh, I think so, love,” Victor says. He sounds sort of delighted, and Tony smiles helplessly. Victor opens his trousers with one hand—Tony notes that _he_ isn't wearing underwear either, and wonders if maybe they'd both been a little hopeful and a little presumptuous—and pulls out his cock, heavy and flushed and beautiful, and Tony’s mouth waters so much he has to swallow twice before he tries to speak again.

“Thank you, Victor,” he breathes, and he leans in. Tony comes close enough to kiss the head and groans at the flavor of precome, but despite his impatience he finds himself waiting to take in any more of Victor’s length. He stays there, kissing the tip passionately but shallowly, until Victor threads fingers into his hair and pulls him further on. And that… that’s just _perfect_. Tony relaxes his jaw and lets Victor slide his mouth on and off, changing the angle and pushing him where he wants him. All Tony has to do is relish the flavor of skin and musk under his tongue, and suck down the precome that drips from Victor’s cockhead. His eyes drift closed and he sighs heavily through his nose. He doesn’t know what his hands are doing, but he doesn’t think he really cares.

Victor’s taking such good care of him, he thinks muzzily. He could do this forever.

Victor pulls Tony further onto his cock with a groan, and it’s the easiest thing in the world to open his throat and let Victor’s cock in. It’s a stretch, and Tony hasn’t had as much practice with this as he once had, but it feels _so good_ , the way he holds Tony’s throat open and wide, the way he pushes in with the tiniest rocking motions of his hips. Tony can feel the whole length of him pulsing with blood, hot and alive, and he moans.

In a detached kind of way, Tony knows that his own cock is hard enough to ache, leaking precome every time Victor pushes back into Tony’s throat. He hazes out on the pleasure of having something so good in his mouth and on the little sounds Victor’s making deep in his chest. Tony’s not aware of anything but Victor’s pleasure and the weight on his tongue making his jaw ache wonderfully.

“Mmm, oh. Oh, that’s enough, darling. Anthony. Anthony.”

Tony opens his eyes, and it’s like coming to. Victor is looking down at him, concerned but flushed with sex and happiness. His pupils are very wide. Tony can see tiny reflections of himself there, kneeling with his hair mussed.

“Huh?” he says. His lips brush Victor’s cock when he speaks, and he shudders with longing. Maybe this is what subspace is like. All he can feel is a hazy want.

“You’re so gone on it,” Victor says fondly, combing his fingers through the wild tangle of Tony’s hair. “I was saying that we’re going to be done with that for now. As sweet as it is, I don’t think I want to come in your mouth tonight.”

“Oh,” Tony says, disappointed. Victor smiles and strokes his hair again.

“I’ve got something else you’ll like,” he conciliates. “Climb up on the bed.”

Victor backs himself onto the bed first, laying himself down on his back with his head and shoulders propped up on a mound of pillows, so that he can look easily around at the rest of the room. Tony follows him, scrambling to his feet and kneeling on the side of the bed. For several seconds, he just stays there, waiting for Victor to tell him what to do, and then that static pressure comes back, the tingle like licking a battery that guides him into position, pressing on his hips and thighs until he’s straddling Victor, hovering over his cock.

Tony suspects, he _hopes_ , that Victor is going to let him ride him. Getting Victor’s perfect cock in his ass might be the only thing that can make up for the loss of that cock in his mouth.

“I’m going to give you a choice, is that okay?” Victor asks. Tony’s first reaction is _why wouldn’t it be okay_ but then he starts to consider actually making a decision, and it’s harder than it should be. There are things he wants—well, _a_ thing, and it’s jutting up proudly out of Victor’s open pants—but asking, deciding, seems like a faraway thing. He can probably do it, though. He thinks.

“What choice?” Tony asks.

“I’m going to fuck you,” Victor says clearly. _This_ isn’t in question. It’s immutable, definite. Tony shudders. “I’m not going to open you with my fingers. You can do it yourself, or—“ Victor pauses and wiggles his fingers, a little spark dancing between them, “I can do it this way. What’s your pleasure?”

“I—“ Tony feels sort of speechless. His first reaction, again, is to go with his gut and avoid magic, but then the idea really turns over in his head, and he wonders if it wouldn’t be too bad after all. He knows how to get himself open on his own fingers _fast_ , but then… speed isn’t really the issue, here. Tony thinks of Victor saying _it is only me, touching you without my hands_ , thinks of the electric tingling sensation when he knew it was _Victor_ touching him, moving him, taking control from him. He gives a small nod.

“I’m going to need you to say that out loud, sweetheart,” Victor says calmly. _Clear consent_ , Tony thinks.

“I want you to. With—with magic. Please.”

“You’re sure?” Victor confirms, raising an eyebrow.

“I’m sure,” Tony says. Instantly, he feels that sweet-strange tingling running over his shoulders and down his arms. When it gets to his wrists it tugs, making Tony sit down on Victor’s thighs and lean back, planting his hands on the bedspread behind him. His legs are spread wide open now and Victor can see all of him. Tony feels his hole clench on nothing as he waits for Victor to touch him.

When he does, it’s very soft, at first. A barely noticeable brush, if it were fingers. But it’s not, and it means _so much more_. Not just because this is magic, but because it’s _Victor_ ’s magic. It’s something just as close to the core of who Victor is as the RT is to who Tony is.

On skin this sensitive, it’s not so much a tingle as a shock when Victor’s magic starts to spread him open and Tony surges up, jerking in place.

“Shh, Tony, you’re alright. Is this still okay?” Victor asks. Tony nods and tries to push down on the retreating pressure inside him, and he can’t seem to keep himself still, his whole body shaking and writhing at the promise of that wild sensation _all the way up inside him_. He has to nod two more times before Victor even looks sure that Tony is answering _him_ , and not just throwing his head back at the feeling. “I’m glad, darling. I’m going to hold you still now.”

Victor wraps magic around Tony’s wrists and hips, pinning him in place and restraining his wild, helpless motions. Tony tries again to thrust down on that little tiny scrap of pressure at his hole, but he _can’t move_ and it drives him crazy in the best way. Everything in his mind is spinning, a compass going wild but always, always, returning to the man beneath him who holds him so securely, even without laying a finger on him. Tony’s head rolls forward again and he gasps at the look on Victor’s face, wide-eyed and amazed like he can’t believe the gift he’s been given. Tony almost snorts with sudden hysterical laughter.

Because that is exactly, to a T, the way Tony feels right now.

And that’s even before Victor gets inside him.

Being stretched by Victor’s magic might be the strangest sensation Tony has ever experienced, because it doesn’t feel like fingers pushing in and pulling him open, or even like a tongue teasing and pressing at his hole to coax it soft. It feels like static electricity filling him up, teasing every part of him at once until his muscles just _give in_ , spreading easy and wide like it’s nothing.

Tony _howls_.

He throws his head back and pants and writhes just to feel the tightness of Victor’s bonds on his hips and arms again, keeping him close and still. He’s sweating with exertion and he doesn’t ever want it to stop, except that then his head rolls forward and he catches a glimpse of Victor’s cock, so hard and heavy it’s laying against his belly and leaking a little trail of precome over his smooth muscles, and all of a sudden Tony can’t wait anymore.

He wants that in him _now_.

“Calm down, love, I’ve got you,” Victor says softly, easing the pressure on Tony’s limbs and withdrawing from his body. Tony whimpers with disappointment, even though he knows it must be preparation for what he _really_ wants.

“ _Victor_ ,” he whines.

“Be patient,” Victor answers a little more sharply. “I’ll decide when you'll give me what _I_ want.”

Tony subsides, slumping a little as he tries to even out his breathing. There’s a smear of his precome on Victor’s thigh, and Tony wants, suddenly and achingly, to get his mouth back on Victor. But he waits, because this is Victor’s show.

“Are you with me, Tony?” Victor asks after a moment. His voice sounds rough with arousal, which is distractingly wonderful, but Tony makes himself answer anyway.

“Yeah, I’m good. Are you… are you gonna get inside me now?” he asks hopefully.

“I am,” Victor replies, with affected magnanimity that makes Tony huff a laugh. “And you’re going to ride me. As hard and fast as you can, understand?” he instructs, and Tony nods excitedly. Neither of them have the patience to take it slow anymore, he doesn’t think, and anyway he likes it rough. “Now.”

Tony pushes himself back to sitting, staring down at Victor’s heavy, leaking cock. He glances up at Victor for permission before he puts his hand on it, and gasps at the heat of that tender flesh under his hand. It feels _good_ to touch Victor, even better than it usually does. The slick is probably magic, he thinks. Victor’s low noise of pleasure shoots through him like electricity, the same sort of tingle the magic had sent through him, only so much better and deeper than the surface of his skin.

“ _Ohh_.” Tony can’t help but groan, long and loud, when he slides himself down on Victor’s cock. It’s so much hotter and wider and _heavier_ than the feeling of magic stretching him open could ever be, and Tony loses himself in the feeling almost immediately. He shoves himself up and down _hard_ , obeying Victor’s instruction. His eyes are glued to Victor’s face, watching every little expression of pleasure for encouragement and direction. Tony treasures every one, reveling in the sheer ability to see the shifts of his face, once so well hidden, now telling him everything Victor wants from him.

He wants Tony to keep pleasing him, exactly the way he is.

Tony forgets to be worried about his own pleasure. All that matters is lifting himself up, clenching to stroke Victor from the inside, slamming back down as hard as he can take, rolling his hips around and around to make the angle as good as he possibly can for Victor. His thighs start aching in minutes, but he doesn’t care. The burn feels good, and even the smallest sigh of pleasure from his lover makes him think that the work is absolutely worth it.

“You’re doing very well, sweetheart. Now harder,” Victor instructs him, and Tony is sweating and panting with exertion but he does it anyway. Victor shifts his hips up and strikes Tony’s prostate dead on and Tony cries out, shaking and coming helplessly. The orgasm is shatteringly powerful and he doubles over, but he keeps riding Victor. “You can stop, sweetheart, I'll just—“

“I can do this,” Tony insists, looking up at Victor with wet eyes. “Let me do this.” Victor nods, eyes dark.

And it hurts, of course it does, but he’s hurting _for Victor_ and nothing about that is a bad thing. Maybe  _this_ is subspace. Maybe it all is.

Tony keeps going and going until Victor arches up under him, and he works Victor with his inner muscles to milk out the rest of his orgasm as best he can, not stopping until Victor does it by force, clamping his hands down on Tony’s hips. The feeling of Victor's hands on his skin is such a shock after so long with only Victor's magic that Tony stills immediately, head jerking up to look at Victor through bleary eyes.

“You’ve done wonderfully, darling. You got us both off hard, and you obeyed so well,” Victor praises, making Tony feel warm and fluttery in his stomach.

“Thank you,” Tony murmurs, ducking his head.

“Anytime,” Victor says with a smile. “Now, let me show you what we do afterwards. Climb off, darling. Let me hold you.”

“Aftercare, I know,” Tony says, but he lets Victor curl around him and cuddle him anyway. He cleans them with a flutter of magic. Their bodies fit together just right, just like they always do, and it makes Tony feel safe and surrounded. Victor strokes Tony's hair in a soothing kind of way.

“Nothing to be afraid of, hm?” Victor asks after a little while. It takes Tony almost a minute to remember their negotiations in the living room, how frightened he had been that he would do something wrong, that he wouldn’t know what to do and he wouldn’t please Victor. All that fear, and in the end it had probably taken less than ten minutes for Victor to have Tony forgetting all about it.

“It was good,” Tony says, smiling into Victor’s chest.

“No,” says Victor. “It was _perfect_.”

 

**Author's Note:**

> Update: laireshi also wrote some very lovely d/s porn for that line of the comics, [Doctor Doom's Orders](http://archiveofourown.org/works/7679038), which you should definitely read <3


End file.
